


Long Way Home

by Gouryellan



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Fluff, Gay Male Character, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Pining, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 06:55:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20616842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gouryellan/pseuds/Gouryellan
Summary: “So.” Dennis attempts to be casual, but the words reverberate with the delicacy of a tuning fork in a quiet room. “How is that all going by the way?”“How is what going?” Mac asks, glancing over at Dennis with mild perplexity.“You know. The whole”, he flicks his wrist. “Gay, uh. Thing.”





	Long Way Home

“5…4…3…2…1”

Dennis drops his head back and flattens his tongue against the bottom of his mouth. He keeps his eyes open and maintains eye contact with Mac to ensure that he doesn’t cheat. Mac’s Adam’s apple eagerly oscillates as he attempts to guzzle his drink faster than his friend. Dennis swills the last few ounces of his beer, holding them in his cheeks as he swallows, beer dribbling down the corners of his mouth. He slams his glass down in victory. “Hell yeah, baby! _Uhhhh_!!”, he shouts, puffing out his chest. The thrill of competition always gets him mildly aroused.

“God damnit!” Mac slams his beer glass down on the bar, just seconds after his roommate; taking labored heaving breaths between belches. “You. Cheated…You started a second before me. I saw.” One of his burps tastes like Doritos, and faintly of bile. Mac hated chugging, and not just because he was so terrible at it. But because it always made him feel like he was drowning.

“I didn’t cheat; you are just the world’s slowest chugger.”

Mac rolls his eyes, visibly irritated. Dennis grabs both empty beer glasses and dunks them in sudsy water before placing them on a mat to dry. “And as the world’s slowest chugger, you now have to take the trash out”, Dennis exclaims, emptying the lime container into the garbage and giving it a quick rinse in the sink before returning it to the cooler.

Mac grunts and slides off his barstool reluctantly. He gathers up several large industrial sized kitchen bags, filled with foul smelling refuse and holds them at arms’ length. “This is why we can’t let Charlie have two days off in a row. This garbage is starting to curdle.” Mac gags and sticks out his tongue as he kicks open the back door.

Dennis lifts an eyebrow indifferently and frowns, as he watches from behind the bar. Mac can be such a baby for someone who prides himself on being so cleanly.

Moments later, Mac traipses back in through the back door and pulls his stool out, letting it drag noisily along the tiled floor. He tosses Dennis a smug glance, knowing just how put off he is by irritating noises. Prickly heat descends over Dennis as he pretends not to notice, he empties the tip jar, divvying up the contents into almost two equal portions. He looks up at Mac who’s leaning forward in his seat, chin resting on his fists, eyes fixed on a nondescript liquor bottle on the shelf below the bar. “Dude, can we get out of here”, Mac whines. “We haven’t had a customer in hours, bro. I’m bored.”

Dennis rolls his eyes and exhales loudly – a puff of air escaping his nose. “Yeah, what do I care? Go. I’ll lock up.”

“Aw, no. I meant us. I don’t wanna go home alone. I’ll just wait.” Mac’s face falls into just the hint of a pout.

Dennis slams his fist wadded with beer stained dollar bills onto the register. “Like we’re not gonna see each other at home in an hour. God, you’re annoying as shit! Just. – I’m just finishing up counting the till. Give me five goddamn minutes of silence and we can go.”

Mac scoffs, and looks away, his pout getting more pronounced. He kicks at the leg of his barstool with his worn combat boots. Dennis feels the slight pangs of what might be remorse for snapping at his friend. He’s learned to dismiss any emotions which don’t readily serve his interests, but he can tell Mac is annoyed with him.

“Ugh whatever, I’m done anyway”, Dennis concedes, slamming the register shut. “Let’s just go.”

Dennis wipes his hands off on the wet dishrag before tossing it onto the edge of the bar, and grabs his keys. “Ready?” He places his hands on Mac’s shoulders in an unspoken apology, guiding him toward the front door. ‘_There’_, he thinks. ‘_Problem solved’_. He ignores the flutter in his chest.

Mac nods, seemingly forgiving Dennis for his outburst and hits the lights. Dennis waits for him to exit before locking the door from the outside.

It’s a warm night in Philadelphia, despite it only being late April. Dennis twirls the keyring to his Range Rover around his finger and looks up at the sky. “I wish you could see the stars here rather than…” he trails off. “What?” Mac is looking at him concerned, as if he might derail like a wayward train off its tracks.

“Uh, Den”, Mac says. “Dude, where’d your car go?”

It takes a moment for him to register Mac’s question. His expression deflates and he glances around the street panicked. “What the – what the FUCK”, he yells. Posted to the stop sign, next to where the vehicle had been parked just hours before is a local ordinance from the city. ‘Temporary No Parking’, it reads. ‘All Violators Will Be Towed At Owner’s Expense’.

Rage swells inside of Dennis like a thunderclap. His face flushes red and his eyes brim with fury. “Give me. Your phone.” The register of his tone is deep. Mac takes a tentative step backwards. “NOW!!”, yells Dennis.

“Yeah.” Mac reaches his hand into his pants pocket and fishes out his phone, successfully unlocking it after the 2ndtry. “Here – here.” He hands it to his visibly untethered cohort. Dennis spits onto the ground. He suddenly feels sobered of the alcohol, but drunk with rage. He punches the (215) number listed on the sign and mashes the speaker phone button, because he can barely hear over the thudding of his pulse in his ears. The line crackles between rings.

“Pick up, god damnit!” He spatters.

“You have reached the Philadelphia parking authority after hours department”, the automated voice message says. “We are currently closed. If you --” Dennis sighs in defeat, drooping his shoulders. He presses the end call button with his thumb. His heart is thumping erratically in his chest. Mac waits a few moments before clearing his throat.

“What is it”. Dennis says it more like a demand than a question.

“Nothing”, Mac sheepishly replies. “Um, but can I have my phone back?”

Dennis turns on his heels and looks up at Mac who is biting his lower lip, as though he’s worried Dennis is going to snap the phone in half and stab him with the broken shards of glass. Dennis hums, and extends his hand.

Mac presses his lips in a thin line and plucks the phone out of his hand. “Thanks”, he mutters, almost inaudibly. Mac swipes at the screen and opens the Uber app. “Wanna wait 12 minutes for a ride?”

“How much?”, asks Dennis.

“Uhhh…Thirty-eight dollars”, Mac drags out the last word like he is trying to do quick math in his head.

Dennis scoffs, wiping some condensation from his upper lip with his fingers. “Absolutely goddamn not. Let’s just walk.”

Mac purses his lips in indecision before nodding his head. He stuffs his phone back in his pocket, catching up with Dennis who was already a couple of strides ahead of him. “Sorry about your car, dude”, he says. “That’s like…annoying as shit.”

Dennis chuckles involuntarily at the blunt accuracy of his friend’s remark. “How very astute of you to notice. But rest assured, Mac. I will not rest until the injustice of this action has been rectified. Oh yes. I will exact my vengeance upon this city like --”

“Turn left”, Mac interjects.

Dennis stops in his tracks, dismayed at Mac’s oblivion. He sighs when he realizes what Mac is suggesting. “I’m not walking through a cemetery”, he grumbles, fingers splayed onto the area just above his hips. 

Mac clicks his tongue. “What, are you scared, bozo?” He teases. “Come on it’s a more better shortcut this way.”

Dennis shifts from one foot to the other. He wasn’t scared. He just hadn’t been in a cemetery since the incident with Frank and his mom’s grave. He swallows the lump that is suddenly manifesting in his throat. Complicated grief – that was another emotion that did not serve him.

“Den, come on”, Mac insists, holding his hand out in front of him in reassurance.

Dennis sighs and takes a step forward, noticing Mac’s outstretched arm. “For Chrissake”, Dennis whines, “I’m not gonna hold your hand.” The statement comes out much more desperate sounding than he had intended. He hopes Mac didn’t notice.

The two men walk in silence for the next few minutes through the yard. Dennis looks down at Mac’s hand every time his knuckles graze against his. Mac doesn’t appear to be apologetic, or even aware that it’s happening. Dennis’ skin prickles when he feels the warmth of Mac’s arm radiating against his as they walk in tow, and he pulls his arm up to his chest. Mac seems to take notice, because he rolls his eyes and clucks. “Sorry, dude”, he says. “I’m not actually trying to hold your hand.”

Dennis shakes his head. “Yeah no. It’s not that.” He is visibly uncomfortable. “I just really don’t like cemeteries since. Well, you know.”

Mac’s mouth makes a soft O shape when he understands. “Ah shit! I’m so sorry, bro. I forgot.” He looks around. “Look, come on, we’re almost out.” He grabs Dennis’ wrist anyway, and pulls him forward. A surge of warmth ascends in Dennis’ stomach; he realizes it’s been years since anyone has actually held his hand. He wasn’t sure he liked the sensation it was giving him. Before he could decide for sure, Mac drops his wrist and gestures with his head. “See? Told you this way was more better. We’re already on Locust.”

Dennis balls his palm into a fist and then wipes the clamminess onto the leg of his jeans. “Good call”, he says. He visibly relaxes when they reach the sidewalk once again.

“So.” Dennis attempts to be casual, but the words reverberate with the delicacy of a tuning fork in a quiet room. “How is that all going by the way?”

“How is what going?” Mac asks, glancing over at Dennis with mild perplexity.

“You know. The whole”, he flicks his wrist. “_Gay_, uh. Thing.”

Mac chortles. “Subtle.” He looks at Dennis whose cheeks have flushed pink. It’s barely noticeable in the dimly lit city streets, but most of Dennis’ foundation has worn off by now, and Mac can see that he’s uncomfortable. He wants to wrap his arms around Dennis for extending an olive branch, but settles for a playful jab to his ribs. “Eh. It’s going I guess.”

“What does that mean?” They stop when they reach the door of their apartment building. Mac plucks his keys from his jacket pocket.

His expression looks discontented. “I dunno man. Dating sucks.” He scrapes the apartment key against the exterior brick wall. It leaves a curved white streak on the stone. “It sucks even harder when you’re 40 and gay and you know.” He gesticulates with his hands.

Dennis shakes his head. “Obviously I don’t.”

A smile ghosts on Mac’s lips. “When you’re attracted to straight guys, or emotionally unavailable guys or….” He trails off. This time Mac is blushing, but it looks better on his tan and freckled skin. “It tends to complicate things.”

“Ah”, is all Dennis can offer. The lump in his throat resurfaces.

“But the sex is good. _Great_, actually”, he corrects himself, grinning wide. “I honestly had no idea orgasms could be that intense dude. Sometimes I will be inside of a guy and I feel like my head is going to explode. Or sometimes, we’ll switch and a guy will be fucking me, and –“

“Okay, enough. Enough”, Dennis demands, the nausea mocking him as it spreads to his tonsils. The taste of copper skirts across his tongue. “I get it dude, you come a lot. I’m happy for you.” Mac struck a nerve, but not for the reason he thinks. If Dennis is being honest with himself, he’s – what’s the word. Jealous. Not in a gay way, but he envies Mac’s newfound sexual freedom. Dennis’ orgasms were never that good, and in recent years they’ve been utterly lacking. Sure, they feel gratifying in the moment, but once they’re finished, and she – whoever she is on that particular day – goes home, he’s left feeling vacant. Even when he unintentionally sired his kid, he remembers feeling bored and uncomfortable post-coitus. “I’m tired. Let’s go inside.” Dennis says.

Without another word, they enter the building, and opt for the elevator over the stairs. It’s a silent ride to the 3rdfloor.

When they enter the apartment, Mac tosses his keys onto the kitchen table. They skid across the surface and fall onto the seat of a chair underneath. He swats his hand in acknowledgement, and walks over to the couch, shrugging off his leather jacket. He folds it meticulously over the edge of the sofa and flops down on the middle cushion, legs outstretched in front of him. “Jesus Christ”, he yawns. “I’m beat.”

Dennis treads to the kitchen and opens the fridge. He pulls a beer from the lone 12 pack sitting on the bottom shelf. He finds comfort in the quiet ‘_tsst_’ noise it makes when he twists the top off.

Mac’s eyes are closed, but he is familiar enough with the routine that he doesn’t have to see Dennis to know what he’s doing. “You gonna keep drinking? It’s like 1 AM.”

“Mac, my car was towed outside of my own DAMNED establishment”, he attests. “Of course I’m going to goddamn drink.”

Mac reopens his eyes and smiles; gaze pointed up toward the ceiling. “Grab me one then”, he remarks, hands drumming lazily on the sides of his thighs.

Dennis returns with two open Coors bottles and drops down beside his roommate, passing one of the beers to him, fingers grazing one another in the exchange. His stomach lurches. They sit there in silence for a few minutes, each taking large gulps of liquid from their bottles. Mac’s knee bounces listlessly against Dennis’ leg, and he wonders if Mac even realizes. As overbearing and crowding and frustrating as Mac can be, Dennis knows deep down that he finds comfort in his friend’s presence. He begins to think about what it will be like once Mac does find a steady relationship. He wonders what might change – when Mac isn’t there to keep him grounded. He’ll adjust, he reassures himself. He doesn’t need anyone, not really. He just likes to feel _safe_.

Dennis exhales audibly. “Today sucked”, he proclaims, referring to the towing fine that he – no – that Frank will have to pay to get the Range Rover back.

“No shit.” Mac chuckles in response. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Dennis pauses and before he can stop himself, he’s opening his mouth and words begin to tumble out. “You make me feel safe.” He begins to panic. He feels like he’s free falling into a void, and like he’ll be swallowed up and spit out, because even a void won’t protect him now. He should have gone to bed as soon as they got home rather than drinking more when he’s feeling emotionally vulnerable. It’s an error in judgment he rarely makes when he’s with anyone else, because that’s when mistakes can be made, and Dennis didn’t make mistakes.

“I what now?” Mac laughs, visibly caught off guard. The leather trills underneath him when he turns to face Dennis.

Dennis sighs in defeat. “Alright I guess we’re talking about it.” He glances over at Mac whose eyes are soft and whose mouth is slightly parted, scanning his face for clarification. “Safe, man. You know? Like, like everything is going to be okay. I’ve told you this before. Like at Dooley’s pool party when I went down on Chrissy Orlando after mastering the double jackknife twist. Or tonight with the goddamn car or walking home through South Philly at 1 AM drunk through a cemetery.” He shifts slightly so that he’s facing Mac, his shin grazing against the tips of the other man’s fingers. “It’s a comfort knowing that you, that you’re gonna be there.”

He lifts his eyes to Mac who is smiling – no – beaming at him. He looks like he’s about 17 years old, and it reminds Dennis of all the times he’s unintentionally made him smile like this, just like this, over the last 25 years.

“Aww, Den”, Mac swoons at him. He reaches forward and squeezes his shin. “I had no idea. I mean, well, that you still, well, thank you.”

A surge of warmth pervades Dennis, starting in the shin where Mac was resting his hand, and careens upward through his stomach and into his chest. “Jesus Christ”, he exclaims, rolling his eyes. “Fuck it.”

He clasps his hand onto the neck of Mac’s cutoff tee and pulls him forward. A surprised breath escapes Mac’s lips before Dennis presses his own against them. Mac’s mouth is warm and dry, but it tastes familiarly sweet. Dennis feels the moment when Mac registers the kiss because he feels the hand release from his leg, and trail upwards onto his waist. Dennis shudders slightly and leans forward, sheepishly sweeping the tip of his tongue across Mac’s upper lip. Mac opens his mouth and joins Dennis’ tongue with his own, the sound he makes is almost a whimper, and it makes Dennis ball his fist tighter around the cotton of his shirt. The kiss is rough and ardent, and it sends waves of electricity through his gut. He needs to take a breath of air, but he would rather drown in this moment than ever take another breath if given the choice. 

He feels like he is free falling again, except rather than into a bottomless void, he feels like he is tethered to Mac who will almost certainly catch him. Mac will always be there to catch him. He will peel his apples for him and make frivolous extravagant dark web purchases for him, and will let him shower first in the morning, and will always call to check in, and will always be there...until he won’t.

Dennis rests his palm on Mac’s cheek and languidly kisses his open mouth. He lets a small groan slip from his throat before pulling away, letting his dampened forehead rest gently against Mac’s. They both take a moment to catch their breath before Mac leans forward and kisses the corner of Dennis’ mouth once more, almost as if he’s authenticating the previous moment, confirming that it happened. 

Dennis turns to face the tv, which hadn’t even been turned on, and as casually as possible, readjusts the seat of his pants, distinctively aware of the slight erection pressing against his zipper. He gets up to grab two more beers, and when he returns, sits down even closer this time, passing one of the bottles to Mac. His stomach doesn’t lurch this time when their fingers touch, so much as flood with an eager warmth. He clears his throat, eyes still fixed on the blank television.

“Just, don’t”, he finally says. “Just don’t get a boyfriend. Not yet.” He turns his head slightly, and Mac is staring at him dumbfounded. A smile creeps up his face, and he blinks a few times, nodding.

“I won’t.”

Dennis nods in solidarity. “Good”, he says, reaching for the remote.

**Author's Note:**

> https://fitspobetchbonnie.tumblr.com/ << you can berate me for this and other things here.


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